


The Real Marysue

by SaenaLife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, casefic - maybe, mary sue - sorta, really just an excuse to say all the things i wish the boys could hear more often, self indulgent, the french mistake in reverse - kinda, wish fulfillment in the most realistic possible way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-14 19:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15396108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaenaLife/pseuds/SaenaLife
Summary: Ever dream about what it would be like to ACTUALLY meet the Winchester brothers? Me too, so here you go!





	The Real Marysue

**Author's Note:**

> This both is and isn't a full-on Mary Sue fic. It is, in that the character's reactions are based as much as possible on me. It isn't, in that she isn't flawless the way so many Mary Sues are. She's only as perfect as I think I could possibly be. Essentially, these are my reactions if I were at my absolute best. Anyway, it felt good to say some things to the brothers that I don't think they hear enough. I hope you like it!

As I left work, the setting sun cast a golden light across the parking lot, its meager warmth losing the battle against a chill wind cutting through my thin sweater. It was only Tuesday, but already the week had gone to shit and I couldn't wait to get home, have a drink, and lose myself in reruns.

I was hurrying toward the warmth of my faithful old Honda when out of nowhere, a blinding wave of dizziness slammed into me. My head went spinning and everything went dark, as if the sun had simply blinked out. The darkness lifted before I could regain any kind of focus, but the light was different, cold and piercing, and I raised one hand to shield my eyes. The unnatural silence was shattered by a blaring wall of sound, almost drowning out the deeply alarmed shout that barely registered in my confusion.

Without warning, something snagged the back of my jacket and jerked me stumbling backward. I nearly fell, but arms reached out from nowhere to catch me and set me on my feet. As I found my balance, my eye caught on the speeding delivery van, disappearing down the street into the night.

Wait. What?

Street?

Night?!

Whirling, I stared back to where my office building should have been, only to be confronted with an all-night Kinkos, deserted except for the staff.

“Where the fuck am I?! _What the fuck is going on_?!”

“You almost got plastered by that truck is what's going on.” The deep, oddly familiar voice had me whirling again to face the speaker. “You okay, there?”

My answer never even made it far enough to stall on my tongue. The face was more familiar than the voice and it was one I never thought I would actually see in real life. His gaze was kind and a little worried, no doubt because of the way I goggled at him, mouth hanging open in what I'm sure was a terribly attractive manner. Though I couldn't see their color in the glare from the wide, bright windows of the copy shop, I knew his eyes were a sparkling green.

“Um...” Half formed thoughts careened around my brain, jostling for attention and mostly getting in each other's way, preventing any single coherent concept from forming. _What... can't b- ... how?... crazy... fever dream?..._

“Whoa, you're kinda pale, maybe you should sit down.” He put a cautious hand on my elbow to turn me toward the curb and I numbly followed, eyes glued to the way his fingers curled into the fabric of my sleeve. “My car's right here, at least we can get you out of the rain.”

I hadn't even noticed the fine drizzle dampening my face, but when he came to a stop and I looked up, I had to blink raindrops from my eyelashes just to make sure I was seeing clearly. There she was, a foot away, ink-black surface scattered with raindrops glistening in the streetlight like a million stars. I stared, mesmerized, as here and there glittering beads of light joined together to streak down the smooth surface of the fender.

She just looked so real, so _solid_ , in a way that was difficult to deny and my knees went watery in a back-brain, pre-verbal kind of terror I'd never felt before. I heard his voice as if from far away ( _Hey, what's wrong? Lady?!_ ) as I reached out a shaking hand to lay my palm on the cold steel. The feel of it went through me like a shock and I gasped. Everything came into sharp focus - the tinny smell of wet metal over the faint tinge of tire rubber, the soft patter of rain all around me, the trembling in the pit of my stomach that wanted to break free and shake me to pieces.

It was too much, I couldn't think. Black haze threatened the edges of my vision and I bent over, bracing myself on my knee with one hand, keeping the other firmly planted on the cool surface of the car, trying to keep my breathing deep and slow. It helped some, enough that I could focus on what he was saying.

“-ake you to the ER, you look like you're gonna faint.”

Without raising my head, I mumbled, “Not gonna faint.” In spite of the assertion, my legs were turning to jelly. Letting myself down in a controlled slide, I landed on my knees next to the back door, and the utter reality of cold rainwater seeping into my jeans nearly unraveled me. I leaned my temple against the gleaming black paint, taking obscure comfort in the heavy solidity, as if the car was an anchor that would keep me from floating away into whatever reality this was.

Feeling slightly steadier after a moment, I managed to raise my eyes and really look at the man hovering over me with a worried expression. When he saw that I was still at a loss for words, he crouched down next to me.

“Now don't worry, sweetheart, we're gonna help you. Can you tell me what your name is? I'm -”

“I know who you are.” The words popped out before I could think.

Eyes crinkling with bemusement, he smiled indulgently. “Oh yeah? Who am I then?”

Feeling the weight of the words I was about to say, words that would change everything, I took a deep breath.

“You're D- “

“Dean!” The shout came from across the street and we both glanced up to see a familiar giant of a man coming toward us, a tray with two coffees in one huge hand and a troubled look on his face.

I was wrong about the fainting.

 

********

 

A deep, steady rumble surrounded me, like the purring of some giant cat, setting up a soothing vibration in my bones. I let it lull me for a few moments, aware in the back of my mind that there was an urgent issue to be dealt with, but not quite ready to examine the particulars of the situation.

Quiet voices put an end to that.

“I'm tellin' you, Sam, she just appeared out of nowhere in front of that truck. Saw it with my own two eyes.”

 _Shit._ Unmistakably Dean Winchester's voice. It all came rushing back, clear as a bell but still not making a bit of sense. Now that I thought about it though, I could feel the vinyl of the seat under my fingers and knew without a doubt I was in the back seat of the Impala.

“Dude, she probably just stepped out of a shadow or something. Not everything's a case!”

Convincing myself that it had to be done sometime, I opened my eyes to the beige fabric covering the inside of the roof, easing into total awareness as slowly as possible.

Dean harrumphed skeptically and Sam continued. “Let's just drop her at the ER, pick up our stuff from the motel, and get back on the road.”

“There is no way I'm just letting this go without some kinda follow-up. Somethin' ain't right here.”

Experimentally tilting my head, I managed to catch Sam's epic eye roll before he leaned down to pick something up from the floor in front of him. “Fine! I'll check her ID, get her name and address, then we can keep an eye on her until you feel better. _After_ we get back from this thing in Nebraska.”

“Deal.”

I couldn't put it off anymore. It was time to sit up and figure out what the fuck was going on here (and who and how and _why_ ). As I carefully began to shift around to push myself upright, still a little lightheaded, I could hear the zipper on my purse open and rustling as Sam found my wallet.

“Let's see. Oregon ID, name Marysue Taylor... uuuh, Dean?”

“What?”

Cautiously raising up on my elbows, a scrap of color caught my eye and I glanced at the door handle inches from my face. The sight of a toy soldier jammed into the ash tray sent my head spinning again. I closed my eyes, dragging in a slow breath, fighting with everything I had not to slip into the vulnerable dark beckoning to me.

“Her license says it was _issued_ in 2016.”

“Ha! Told you there was somethin' fishy!”

Dean's words gave me something to focus on, a question to ask, and I held onto that with everything I had, pushing back the wave of faintness.

“Why is that fishy?” My voice was a dry croak and there was the tiniest break in it that I chose to ignore as I dragged myself to a sitting position. At my words, Sam's head jerked around in a way that made me want to laugh wildly and I put both hands to my temples, squeezing as if that would keep all the crazy from leaking out.

“We-e-ell,” Sam paused, watching me carefully when he answered, “because this is 20 _13_.”

“Oh.”

“OH?!! _That's_ your response?” Dean risked an incredulous glance back at me before turning back to the road. “We could be talking time travel here and all you can say is _oh_?”

Fear and confusion made me irritable and I welcomed the small rush of adrenaline that helped clear my head. “Hey! I'm already dealing with falling into a different fucking dimension, time travel is kinda no biggie at this point!”

“Different dimension?” That sparked Sam's interest. “What makes you say that?”

With a chuckle I hoped didn't sound as cracked as I felt, I waved my hand around me. “You two are what make me say that! You and this car. You don't really exist in my world.”

“Lady, you don't even know us,” Dean said dismissively as he wheeled the Impala into the parking lot of an all-night diner attached to a seedy looking motel.

“You're Dean Winchester, that's your brother Sam, this is a '67 Impala that you call Baby, and you're all fictional characters.”

“Oh shit, Sammy, I think we got a Code Becky.”

Brows drawn together, Sam looked at me. “ _Please_ tell me this isn't some kind of setup based on those damn books!”

“What? No! I have no goddamn idea what's going on, but I did _not_ plan this. And it's not the books in my world anyway, it's a tv show.”

Putting the car in park, Dean turned to face us. “I want to hear all about it, but I'm starving, so why don't we talk while we eat?”

“Fine with me.” I gestured for Sam to hand me my purse while Dean climbed out of the driver's seat and swung open the back door. As I got out, he looked down at me with a grim expression I had seen countless times onscreen, and it was much more intimidating in real life.

“Don't even think about running away before we get some answers.”

“Where the fuck would I go?” I couldn't believe I was snarking at Dean-fucking-Winchester, but the end of my rope was unnervingly near. “Besides, I want answers a hell of a lot more than you do, and this is totally your kind of thing, so I'm sticking close.” I moved toward the diner. “By the way, it's gonna have to be your treat,” I gave him a lopsided smile, lifting my purse, “since they'll probably decline my card.”

Before long, we were handing menus back to the waitress and Dean was eyeing me with a serious look from where he sat across the table, next to Sam. “Alright, Marysue, start at the beginning.”

I winced. “Please, Marysue was my grandma's name. Call me Em.”

“M? What, like Madonna? Don't you have a middle name?”

I could see that Sam was trying to smother a grin. Sighing, I waved a hand at him. “Go ahead, Sam, you saw my license. Tell him why I don't use my middle name.”

His dimples deepened. “Because it's Gertrude?”

“Bingo.” Yeah. Marysue Gertrude. My parents had shared a strong love for their respective mothers and a near total lack of poetry.

“I don't think that's so bad.” Dean leaned back in his chair. “Every Gert I've ever known has been good people.”

“Were they all grizzled truck stop waitresses who gave you free pie because you smiled pretty?” An educated guess; it's what my Grandma Gert would have done if she'd met Dean.

The half shade of indignation on Dean's face quickly morphed into guilty acknowledgment as Sam burst into laughter. “Wow, she's gotcha there, huh Dean?”

He quirked his lip, shrugging. “Maybe. But my point stands.”

Sam brought the conversation back around, though his eyes still twinkled a little with amusement when he looked back at me. “Anyway, why don't you tell us what happened to you, Em?”

My stomach tightened, the relaxed amusement of the past few moments slipping away like a dream as I forced myself to focus on what little I knew. Glancing at my phone, I realized that I would normally still be fighting traffic on my way home. Pushing aside the surreal thought, I clasped my hands on the table in front of me, took a deep breath, and started.

“I'm from Eugene, Oregon. Twenty minutes ago, I left work for the day and on my way across the parking lot, something happened. I don't know what exactly. All I know is that I got really dizzy, everything went dark, and then you,” I nodded in Dean's direction, “pulled me from in front of that truck.” I shook my head a little in lingering disbelief. “Maybe 10 seconds of weird altogether and you know everything that's happened since then. The date is June 19, 2018.”

Sam frowned in thought. “Not a lot to go on there.”

“Now how about you tell me where and when I am now?” Noticing that my knuckles were turning white with the pressure of my grip, I casually unlaced my stiff fingers and waited for the answer.

“We're in Iowa, just outside Des Moines.” They both looked at me expectantly, but Des Moines means nothing to me and I shook my head. Dean went on. “Today is February 8, 2013 and...”, he checked the clock hanging over the cash register, “it's 8:37 pm.”

Silence reigned for a moment, all three of us pausing to see if I would freak out at the information. But the date wasn't anything special in my mind and I shrugged helplessly. I'd hoped there would be some clue there and a whisper of panic returned to brush along my nerves with the awareness that I was still completely in the dark.

“Hey, don't worry. We're gonna figure out how to get you home.” Sam's voice, low and gentle, pulled me from my thoughts and I looked up to meet his sympathetic gaze.

“I know you'll try, Sam. Thanks.” Despite my best efforts, my voice was thick with emotion. I swallowed hard around the sudden lump in my throat, determined not to cry until I could be alone.

“Why don't we drop the heavy thinking for now,” Dean suggested, nodding toward the oncoming waitress loaded down with plates, “you'll feel better after some food.”

I threw him a grateful look as she set my burger in front of me and we all settled in to eat.

Dean dragged a fry through a puddle of ketchup and munched down on it. “So, tv show, huh? Must be the same place we went that one time.” Sliding a look Sam's way he went on. “You know, where you were Polish and married to Ruby?” He nudged an elbow into his brother's ribs, grinning. “ 'Member that, Sammy?”

Sam grimaced. “Yeah Dean, I remember.”

“Anyway, it's not the same world.” They both looked at me quizzically. “In that one, you didn't get along and hardly talked to each other. In my world, it's all the same names, but you two have an epic friendship, as close to being brothers as you can be without actually growing up together.”

For all the times I've seen the brothers move in sync on the show, it's pretty rare for them to actually have identical smiles at any given time. Not here. They didn't even look at each other, but both of them, at the exact same moment, just a little bit of a happy, satisfied twist to one side of their mouths. It was so clearly one of those sibling things - the same as when my sisters and I sometimes speak whole phrases together - that I caught my breath, struck by the undeniable _realness_ of them.

“Yeah?” I could hear the curiosity in Dean's voice.

“Totally. Let's see, you shared a house for a while before you both got married, you were in each other's weddings, you live in the same town now, and your families hang out together all the time. Most people never have a friendship like that. It's kind of inspiring, really.”

“Huh.” Sam was thoughtful. “Families?”

“Yep. You both married intelligent, beautiful women and you both have kids.”

Dean grabbed his beer, holding it up to Sam. “Guess we got that apple pie life somewhere at least, right? Cheers.” He tapped the neck against the bottle Sam raised to him and they both drank.

He'd been right; the food had steadied me. I no longer felt untethered, as if I might simply drift off into the ether. Pushing away my plate, I looked at the brothers hopefully.

“Okay. You're the professionals. Where do we start?”

Sam leaned forward. “I think we start with you. There must be something special about you if someone sent you into another dimension.”

“I'm nobody, I swear. I have a sweetie, a cat, a few friends, and a job. That's about it.”

“What kinda job?”

I glanced at Dean. “Nothing even remotely high-level, nevermind _this_ high-level.”

“Okay then,” Sam tried another angle, “what about the tv show? Do you have anything to do with that? Maybe there's some connection to us there.”

“I didn't even start watching until season 9.” I laughed then, a little embarrassed. “Of course, then I fell down the rabbit hole.”

Dean picked up the line of questioning. “So you're in the- what do they call it?- the fandom?”

“Um, yeah.” I could feel my cheeks heating and desperately tried to keep a natural smile on my face.

“What does that involve?”

“Different things for different people. I mostly reblog other people's stuff online, talk to other fans, that kind of thing.” _Stop there, please, stop there._

My silent plea went unanswered.

“Really? That's all?” The interest was plain on Sam's face.

When I just nodded, I could see by their faces that they could see by mine that I was holding something back. Still, I couldn't quite make myself say the words out loud. To them.

Dean's voice was gruff, but kind. “Listen, Em, if we're gonna help you, you gotta tell us anything that might be relevant. So spill it.”

In spite of my discomfort, I took a moment to gather up the thrill of hearing Dean say my name and tuck it away safe to be examined in detail later. Then I took a deep breath and laid it all on the table.

“I write fanfiction.”

“I knew it!” Dean crowed. “I bet you write all the sexy stories about our boy Sammy here, right?” He smacked Sam on the shoulder. “Told ya it was a Becky situation!”

I grimaced in sympathy at Sam's reddening face, knowing that mine was even worse. “Not exactly.”

That stopped him short. “Whaddya mean?”

 _Hell,_ I thought to myself, _might as well just own up to it_. After all, I had nothing to be ashamed of, but I chose my words carefully anyway. “I mostly write about the Dean character, and some about Crowley.”

It was Sam's turn to crow while Dean stared at me with the purest look of befuddlement I've ever seen.

“Crowley? What the fuck, _really_?”

“As a strictly fictional character, he's hilarious and a blast to write. As an actual demon in charge of a literal Hell, I'd prefer he didn't know I exist.”

“And me? Why the fuck would you write about me?”

Shaking my head, I met Sam's eyes and saw a version of my own exasperated affection reflected there. Turning back, I tried to find words Dean would understand and maybe even remember, if not actually accept.

“First, I want to be clear that I write about the Dean character on the tv show, not about you. But I'm willing to bet that there's more than a little truth to it, so here's why I write about him.” I gathered my thoughts for a second and then let loose. “He's this amazing combination of kindness and badass-ery. He can be brutal when it's necessary, and sometimes when it's not. At the same time, he loves so easily, and with all his heart, no matter how guarded he acts. He's brave and he's self-sacrificing - which is both his best and his worst trait, by the way. He's got a massive martyr complex that's not rooted in self-pity or misplaced heroism, but simply in the fact that he believes _everyone_ deserves to be alive more than he does. He's funny and super fucking smart and caring and lethal and only occasionally a total jerk. Who wouldn't want to write about someone like that?” I glanced back at Sam. “How'd I do? Close at all?”

“Hundred percent so far.” His grin was delighted.

Meeting Dean's eyes, I smiled. “Should I go on?”

“No, no, please don't.” Shifting uncomfortably, he fiddled with his silverware for a moment, then abruptly stood. “I gotta hit the head.”

I couldn't help turning to watch him walk away, just for a few seconds (another gem to be tucked into my personal memory stash). When I glanced back at Sam, he looked so thoroughly entertained that I knew I was caught. There was no stopping the heat that rose in my cheeks, but I widened my eyes at him with a little shrug that said _what did you expect?_

He laughed a little. “So you write about Dean, huh?”

Choosing to skirt that issue, I turned the conversation in a much safer direction.

“You know, Sam!girls have just as good a case for writing about you, and I totally get it. You wanna hear what I think about the Sam character?”

“Uh,” he shook his head, “no, I think I'll pass. Watching Dean's reaction was the most fun I've had all week though.”

“Yeah, he doesn't take compliments well, does he?”

“Not sincere ones, no.”

Looking across at Sam's smile, I felt a sudden intense dislocation, swamped by the unreal experience of having a friendly conversation with _Sam Winchester_. Vividly aware of the possibility that this was all a delusion, I blinked away the tears that were forming and tried to stop my hands from shaking. My eyes darted around for a moment, searching for oddities or inconsistencies, but (present company excepted) it seemed like any normal diner in any normal town. If it was a delusion, it was holding up.

He noticed my agitation and ducked his head to catch my eye. “Hey Em, are you okay?”

Sighing, I leaned my head on one hand, rubbing at my temple where a headache was threatening. “There are no good options here. If I'm not batshit crazy, then I'm stuck in another fucking world. What if I can't get home, Sam? Where will I go?”

Unsurprisingly, his eyes were earnest. “We'll help you figure it out, one way or the other. We help people, even if there's no actual monsters in the mix.”

My brain skittered a little on the word 'monster', but before I could complete the chain of thought that might have led to a full-on panic, Dean spoke from behind me as he approached the table.

“He's right, Em. You're not alone in this.”

Again, tears sprang to my eyes and I know that for a second, everything I was feeling - the terror and confusion that rose and fell within me but never relented completely; the overwhelming unreality of it all that made me fear for my sanity; the nakedly vulnerable relief and gratitude that they weren't going to desert me - it was all laid bare on my face for them to see. I blinked hard, trying to rearrange my _I got this_ mask to cover the emotional chaos and failing spectacularly. Seeing my distress, Dean went on before I could force words past the lump in my throat.

“There's a bar in the back there and I always think better with a whiskey in my hand. What say we move the party?” His hand casually dropped to my shoulder for just a moment and the unexpected comfort of that contact steadied me more than the food had. Not because it was Dean touching me; simply because I was so utterly in need of that small, simple gesture of human compassion.

Still feeling a little shaky, I cleared my throat and nodded. “Sounds good.” Standing, I grabbed my purse and turned toward the bathrooms. “I'll be there in a minute. Order me a whiskey ginger, would ya?”

“You bet.”

Luckily, it was single occupancy bathroom. I locked the door behind me and flipped the lid down on the toilet, sitting down heavily. Alone for the first time since everything went Twilight Zone, the crisis wasn't long in coming. I sat there, not seeing the kitschy country-style decorations or the dried flower bouquet next to the sink. I was seeing scenes from my life at home, places and people I loved deeply and was terrified I'd never see again, interspersed with a thousand potential ways my life in this dimension could go, each one more horrific than the last.

Just like when I'd seen Baby, out there in the rain, it got hard to take a deep enough breath and for a second I thought I might faint again. The only thing that pulled me back was the thought of the boys having to break into the bathroom and find me sprawled on the floor. I forced myself to breathe in to a count of five and then let it out the same way. It took a couple of tries, but eventually my head cleared and I realized my cheeks were wet with tears.

Splashing a little cold water on my face and carefully dabbing around my reddened eyes, I stared at myself in the mirror. I'd survived some tough times in my life and I had to think of this as being no different. I swore to myself that I would do everything I could to get back home, to my real life. And failing that, I would do everything I could to make this my new home and my new life, though I would never give up hope.

Squaring my shoulders, I made my way into the dimly lit bar where Sam and Dean sat across from each other in a booth. I don't know if I could have made the choice of which one to sit next to and which one to look at, but fortunately the choice was made for me. I slid into the booth next to Dean, gratefully picking up the drink that sat there, condensation beading on the glass.

Without a word, I lifted it to my lips and downed half of it without pause, before setting it precisely back on its cocktail napkin and looking up to catch the amused look passing between the brothers.

“What? The day I've had, I've fucking earned it.”

“No argument here.” Dean lifted what looked like whiskey on the rocks and took a hefty sip.

“Dean was just saying he didn't think your profile of him was all that accurate.” Picking up his beer, Sam looked innocently at me, but I wasn't fooled. There's no doubt he was as much of a shit-stirrer as Dean, maybe even more so. He proved it with a conspiratorial quirk of an eyebrow at me.

Seemed like we were gonna be fast friends. Half smiling, I turned to Dean. “Oh yeah? What part, exactly?”

He frowned a little. “All of it, really, 'cept for that fact that I _am_ a badass. But especially that bit about 'loves so easily and with all his heart'.” Interesting that he remembered the exact wording. “Load of bullshit, that.”

“Uh-huh.” Too easy. I took a moment to remember their timeline. 2013... “I'll stick to recent history, in the interest of time.” I held up a finger for each name. “Kevin. Garth. Charlie. You took them all under your wing.” As I said the names, I felt a twinge, knowing that both Sam and Dean would be horrified to learn of their eventual fates. I wished I hadn't mentioned them.

I could see I'd made my point to Dean, though, because he jabbed a thumb in Sam's direction. “How come I gotta be under the microscope and he gets a pass?”

My lips turned up into a smile to see Sam suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. I'm all for equal-opportunity shit-stirring. “I offered to give him my analysis, but he wasn't interested.”

“Well hell, I'm interested! Let 'er rip.”

“Okay, here goes.” I kept my eyes on Dean, afraid the dreaded puppy-dog eyes would influence me. “Sam's a really interesting and complicated character, a lot like his brother in that respect, and he's every bit the hero Dean is. It's like he always instinctively knew that the demon blood had changed him, contaminated him with a kind of dark power that most people couldn't imagine, so he's spent his whole life fighting that darkness, trying to be a decent human being. It could turn and twist him into a truly terrible thing, but he refuses to let that happen.” I paused, searching for clarity. “The demon blood is what Sam was given and the decency is what he chooses. Doesn't get more heroic than that.”

Dean agreed with me, if the way his expression softened as I spoke was any indication. He threw a proud glance in Sam's direction and I followed his look to see the younger Winchester sitting in stunned silence. I only caught a glimpse of wide eyes and lips parted slightly in shock before he regained his composure with startling speed.

Either Dean didn't notice or he pretended not to. “Yeah! How'd that feel, Sammy?”

“Awkward and weird.” His voice was a little hoarse and he cleared his throat before smiling softly at me. “But... thank you, Em.”

I blushed a little, amazed at having elicited that kind of reaction. “You're welcome. I get the feeling you two don't hear that kind of stuff often enough. Everyone needs to feel appreciated.”

“True, but you know what I would really appreciate? Another drink.” Dean raised a hand to the waiter. “And then we're gonna get to the bottom of this mystery, right?” He bumped his elbow against mine where it rested on the table.

Downing the rest of my drink, I nudged back. “Sounds like a plan.”

For the entirety of that round and half of the next one, I told them all about my life, every boring detail, it seemed. They peppered me with questions and theories, but at the end of it, none of us had any better idea what the hell had happened or why.

“Ugh, I quit.” Sighing heavily, I slumped down in the booth. “I can't think about this anymore right now. My brain is mush and I'm just getting pissed off and panicky.”

“Alright then, change of subject.” Curiosity sparkled in Sam's eyes. “Tell us about your version of 2018.”

Scowling, I wrinkled my nose. “Complete and total shitstorm ever since Trump took office. Or stole it, more accurately.”

“Trump?” Sam frowned in thought. “Why do I know that name?”

“Donald Trump, right?” Nodding in recollection, Dean sat forward. “I remember him. Real estate dude from the '80s, maybe '90s. He acted like he was all big shit, total asshole about it, then he went bankrupt like five times, blew his entire inheritance, and never really recovered. Last I heard, he was tryin' to scrape together money to buy a bunch of Gas-n-Sip franchises, but no one was investing.” He looked at me, eyebrows raised incredulously. “So _that guy_ is President?”

“Not legitimately, but yeah, and if you thought he was an asshole here, be glad you don't have our version,” I answered glumly. “In my world, he's basically Dick Roman without the compassion. Or the charisma.”

“Ouch!” Sam flinched sympathetically.

“Maybe we could talk about something else?”

With a half-chuckle, Dean suggested, “You could always tell us what happens to us in the next few years?”

“Dude, no!” Setting down his beer with a muted thunk, Sam stared at his brother. “When has knowing the future ever worked out? In movies _or_ real life? Never, that's when. Hell, imagine what Bobby would've said about it!” He shuddered.

“Oh, don't be so dramatic! What could it hurt?” Dean pouted.

They both looked at me and for once in my life, my poker face held, mostly because my brain had been spinning with sudden revelation ever since Dean mentioned their future. That was it; _that's why I was here_. I couldn't explain how I knew it, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was here to tell them something that would change their path forward, and by extension, change the fate of this world.

The enormity of that was too much to process. I hardly knew which way was up, much less what or how much to tell them. The best option was to play it safe and not tell them anything for the moment.

Somehow, all of that went through my brain so fast that they didn't even notice the pause before I spoke. “Sam's right. There's no way to know what the repercussions would be if I told you what's going to happen.” I shrugged apologetically, meeting Dean's disappointed gaze. “I just don't think it's a good idea.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Yep, that's me, I _love_ spoiling the sports.”

Sam chuckled and I grinned at him, before sobering a little. “Hey, speaking of Bobby, I know it's been a while, but I just want to say how sorry I am for your loss. He's kind of a hero of mine. I wish I could have met him.”

“He was the smartest man I ever knew.”

“And the baddest of the badass hunters.”

I raised my glass. “Here's to Bobby.”

“To Bobby!” Their voices raised in chorus and the three of us drank.

Finishing my drink, I tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn that made my jaw pop.

“A-a-and that's our cue to call it a night. Whaddya say we get Em a room here so she can get some rest? We'll come at this thing fresh in the morning.” Dean glanced at Sam. “Nebraska can wait another day, right?”

“Sure it can. Let's go.”

 

*********

 

I leaned against the Impala, putting all the energy I had left into keeping my mind blank, veering sharply away whenever my thoughts turned toward the bizarre situation I was in. Luckily, it was only a few minutes before Sam was handing me a key and pointing out my room. Numb with exhausted fear and moving on auto-pilot, it took a couple of tries before I could get the key into the lock.

“Em, hold up!”

I turned from the door to see Dean jogging over from the open trunk, holding a bundle of clothes.

“I did laundry today, so they're clean.” Handing me the folded up sweatpants and tee, he went on, gesturing at my small purse, “Since I'm betting you don't carry pjs in there.”

“Oh, I don't wea- uh, yes, thank you.” I turned back to the door, hoping the weird parking lot lighting hid my blush.

“We'll come get you for breakfast, but if you get hungry first, just come knock on the door.” He waved a hand to where his brother was hauling a duffel bag into a room three doors down. Glancing up, Sam smiled reassuringly and sketched a small wave as he disappeared inside.

Smothering another yawn, I said, “Sure, but don't count on me being up early. I feel like I could sleep for ages.”

He smiled. “I hope so. G'night, Em, see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

 

*********

 

My eyes shot open, heart pounding in my chest, muscles nearly cramping with sudden adrenaline as I flailed wildly for the lamp that existed on a bedside table in another dimension. _Where was I?_ Finally, I managed to locate an unfamiliar switch and the room flooded with the too-bright light of a cheap motel room.

Even before my eyes adjusted, I remembered what had happened and how impossibly far from home I really was. Seeing that I'd been asleep for less than an hour, I hugged my knees to my chest and stared around the room. It was impossible to tell if everything here really was different than my own dimension or if it all felt so weird because I was teetering on the edge of insanity.

The silence was overwhelming, quickly becoming oppressive. It felt like I was the only person alive in the world, and given the events of the day, that reality seemed terrifyingly possible.

Grabbing the remote, I clicked on the tv, trying to lose myself in a familiar sitcom. Except that it was unfamiliar, too. Subtle differences at first, but then one character was played by an entirely different actor in a scene I remembered well, every word the same but spoken by a different woman.

It was too much. Tossing on the borrowed pajamas, I padded barefoot down the concrete walkway, stopping to knock at their door where I could see tv light flickering through a crack in the curtains.

“I don't want to be alone,” I blurted as soon as the door opened, glancing inside to see an old black and white movie murmuring quietly on the screen, the room dimly lit by a lone lamp. “Can I come in and watch tv with you for a while?”

Understanding shone in Sam's kind eyes as he swung the door open wider. “Sure, come on in. I was just getting ready to hit the sack, but Dean's watching a movie.” He looked over to where his brother sat on one of the beds, leaning against the headboard with a beer in one hand and a bag of what looked to be pork rinds in the other. “You don't mind, do you Dean?”

Dropping the bag next to him, Dean waved a welcoming hand at me. “Nah, be good to have some company, since Cinderella here needs her beauty sleep and can't be bothered to stay up to watch _The Maltese Falcon_ with me.”

Unfazed at the criticism, Sam rolled his eyes and headed for the bathroom. “Help yourself to a beer, Em. Dean's got plenty.”

“Yeah, go for it.”

Deciding to take him up on it, I crossed to the mini-fridge and pulled out a cold bottle. Popping the cap, I sat down at the small kitchenette table and took a long swallow before focusing on the screen. I'd never seen this movie, so I would have no idea if anything had changed. Perfect.

“Really, Em? You're gonna sit on that hard-ass chair for an hour and a half to watch a movie?” Dean's eyebrows were scrunched up in a confused frown.

“Um...” I glanced around, feeling awkward, “I hadn't really thought about it?”

“C'mon, you can sit on the bed next to me, I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman.”

“Oh, I wasn't worried about that,” I said with a laugh. “I guess I just don't know where I belong right now.” Grabbing my beer, I wandered around to the window side of the bed and sat against the headboard next to Dean, the pork rinds between us.

“In this kind of situation, the best you can do is try to ride the wave of weird, just go with the flow until your life evens out and gets back to normal.” Dean caught my gaze and held it. “Which it will. We'll make sure of it.”

At his words, I honestly felt as if some of the weight had lifted from my shoulders and I smiled. “I know.” Turning back to the tv, I snagged a rind from the bag and started to nibble on it as the bathroom door opened. Sam glanced over as he crossed to the other bed, still toweling his hair. “Ugh, how can you eat those things? I mean, Dean'll eat anything, but I've never seen a normal person like pork rinds.”

“Bold of you to assume I'm normal,” I said, managing to keep a straight face until I heard Dean's little snort of laughter. “Anyway, it's an acquired taste, for sure. But when you're ten years old, stuck at Grandma's house, and desperate for a snack, you'll try anything.” I grabbed another one. “These and lemon drops. It's like a blast from the past.”

“Huh, to each their own, I guess.” Shaking his head, Sam climbed under the covers, punching the pillow into shape before settling in, turned away from the light of the tv. “G'night, guys.”

“Night, Sam.”

“Goodnight.”

We all fell silent for a while, no sound but the tv playing quietly and the occasional crunching noise as Dean and I shared the bag. I managed to pay attention to the movie for about as long as it took me to finish my beer. Brushing the BBQ flavored dust from my fingertips, I set the empty bottle on the floor next to the bed. Shifting back against the pillows, I tried to refocus on the plot, but my brain wasn't cooperating.

I had to figure out how to get back home and every time I thought about it, the certainty grew inside me that it depended on my telling Sam and Dean something about their future. But what? And how the hell could I presume to take on so much responsibility? Not just for these two very _real_ people, but responsibility for the effect their actions would have on this entire world?

Dean's soft throat clearing interrupted my train of thought and I glanced over to find him looking at me with a half smile.

“So the curiosity is killing me and I gotta ask.”

I nodded a little hesitantly. “Okay?”

“These stories you write about me. They sexy?”

The flush that overtook my cheeks was instantaneous and there was no way to deny it. I nodded in silent mortification, closing my eyes and praying for a quick and painless death.

“Then how come you're not all up in my business like Becky was with Sam?”

My lids popped open again and I stared at him in open astonishment, to be met by his cheeky grin and a mix of cockiness and curiosity in his eyes.

Fucking hell, the man scrambled my brain! Through sheer force of will, I managed to shove aside the part of me that threatened to collapse under the incredible reality of that smile and its owner sitting a foot away. _Go with the flow,_ like the man said, so I got a grip on myself and tried to think about his question.

“Okay _,_ let's start with the fact that I know you're not the character I write about, even if it seems like you are. You're a real person who makes their own choices. You're not here for my amusement.” He nodded in understanding and gestured for me to continue. “Second, much as I would like to be, I'm not one of the sassy, badass heroines of my stories. Me hitting on you would be like me trying to dunk a basketball - no chance of success and high probability of embarrassment.”

Dean frowned. “Don't sell yourself so short.”

“Um, sure.” Shaking my head, I went on to defend my point. “Let's be real, my brain would probably leak out my ears if either one of you actually flirted with me. I'm not sure my system could take it.”

A soft chuckle filtered over from the other bed. “Either one of us, huh?” Sam's voice was sleepy and amused as he rolled over, leaning up on his elbow to look over at me with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Oh, what the hell, I felt weirdly comfortable with Sam. Besides, I'd already said too much and it was too far past midnight to be embarrassed anymore, so I grinned right back. “Yeah, in fandom-speak, I would say I'm Dean-sexual, but Sam-curious.” From the corner of my eye, I could see Dean's eyebrows shoot up at that.

Sam's smile slid into a little smirk. “Sam-curious, huh?” His eyebrows rose a little and he eyed me with the most subtle, yet potent leer I've ever experienced in my life. “Curious about what?” If he hadn't gone on to bite his bottom lip in a fairly ridiculous piece of overacting, the aforementioned brain-melting would most definitely have occurred. As it was, I barely managed to shake it off.

“Oh, shut the hell up, Sam!” I laughed, waving a dismissive hand. “No one's falling for that shit. Besides, it's not nice to play with my emotions like that.”

“Yeah, Sam, only a real jerk would hit on a woman who just landed in a different dimension.”

“We-e-ll, it's not so much _that_ as that I'm a heterosexual woman who is still breathing and isn't blind. But yeah, the dimensional thing, too.” I dimpled an innocent little smile at Sam and he barked a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“So is that what this fanfiction stuff is all about? Sex?” There was genuine curiosity in Dean's face. “I've only met two people who write it and, while you seem about as far from Becky's kind of crazy as you can get, you both write the sexy stuff. Is it just that people think we're good-looking and wanna imagine screwing us?” He grinned. “I mean, I got zero problem with that. I imagine having sex with people all the time.”

Sam frowned disapprovingly. “TMI, Dean.”

“What? I'm just sayin'!”

“Anyway,” I interrupted, “it's not _all_ about the smut, but the truth is that reading and writing about sex is fun, and you guys have to admit that the two of you,” I waved a hand in a general indication of their entire selves, ”provide a whole lot of fuel for that particular fire.” Scooting forward a little on the bed, I turned sideways to face both of them as I talked. I suddenly wanted them to understand, at least a little, about the complicated nature of fandom and fanfiction. “But people write all kinds of things about you two and the world you live in. There's angst and fluff and AUs and casefics and who knows what all. If you can imagine it, it's probably been written. Along with quite a bit you can't imagine.”

“Yeah, but why?” Now Sam was caught up in the question. “What's so fascinating about us?”

“You're kidding, right?” I ticked off the points on my fingers. “You guys have a tragic backstory, you hunt monsters, and you save people! Not to mention that the two of you die way more than usual.” That earned a rueful grimace from Sam and a cough of cynical laughter from Dean. “But it's more than all of that. It's because of the love and the loyalty between you,” I heroically ignored Dean's eye-rolling and kept talking, “and because of your determination to do the right thing, whatever the cost. You two never give up on anything, not really, and especially not each other. You get knocked down, defeated, and you just keep coming back and continuing the fight. A lot of people who are struggling find inspiration in that. Your story, and the people who bring it to life on the show, have a hugely positive effect in my world. I'm proud to be a fan.”

“Huh.” The corners of Dean's mouth drew down in consideration. “That's actually pretty cool.”

“Yeah.” Sam's voice was thoughtful.

“Personally, I will always be grateful to the show, and to you two, because you gave me writing and that has changed my life for the better in so many ways, it's hard to describe.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “We _gave_ you writing? What's that mean?”

“I had never finished a piece of fiction that wasn't a class assignment, but after watching all eight seasons that were on Netflix, I found myself sitting down to write 65 thousand words of the best story I was capable of producing. About you.” I grimaced a little, remembering. “That makes it sound a fuck of a lot easier than it was, believe me. But I loved every minute of it.”

“It sounds pretty impressive.” Sam smiled across at me. “What inspired you to such heights?”

“Um,” I ducked my head a little, stealing a quick look at Dean, “mostly, I just wanted to see Dean have a chance to be truly happy, so I wrote a story about it and made it happen.”

With a skeptical glance at his brother, Sam raised his eyebrows and asked, “And just how did you accomplish that?”

Biting back a smile, I said, “I cursed him.”

There was a snort of laughter from Dean. “Sounds like my life.”

Turning to look at him, I shrugged. “Well, I had to find a way to get you out of hunting, just for a little while, and away from your familiar surroundings. The curse meant that you had to hide away until Bobby and Sam could fix it.”

“Bullshit! I'd never just sit on my ass while they rescued me.” He stopped just short of glaring at me, but there was a definite hint of outrage in Dean's expression.

“Hate to say it, Em, but he's right, it doesn't sound like him.”

“Of course he's right! With the one exception being that if he didn't disappear for a while, you would _both_ die.” I folded my arms over my chest, looking smugly from one to the other. _Gotcha!_

“Alright, you make a good point.” Dean's admission was grudging, but his smile was good-natured. “Meanwhile, aren't there any women in this story? I'm still waitin' to hear about the sexy times.” He waggled his eyebrows in the cheesiest expression I've ever seen on such a handsome face.

Sputtering a laugh, I reassured him, “Yes, there's a woman in the story, one who will take none of your shit, by the way.”

“Whaddya mean, 'shit'? I'm always respectful with women. I'm a goddamn gentleman!”

“I believe that with all my heart, but sometimes...” I paused in thought, “sometimes your protective streak leads you to believe that you know better than anyone else and you start making decisions for the people you want to protect.”

Sam pursed his lips in a low whistle. “Damn, that's some hard truth there, huh Dean?”

“Shit, I'm sorry!” Suddenly mortified, I turned to face him. “That was so _rude_! Somehow I forgot that we don't really know each other.”

“Well,” Dean drawled thoughtfully, “seems like you might know me pretty well.”

“You're right and it's not fair for me to just throw that knowledge around like a wild punch.”

“Hey, I asked for the hit. Don't worry about it.” I frowned, unconvinced, and he shook his head, smiling gently. “Em, you didn't say anything that wasn't true. We're good.”

Relaxing a little, I smiled back, still feeling bad, but trying to take him at his word.

Conversation languished after that and by the time the movie ended, Sam had rolled over and gone back to sleep.

“Oh hey, the next movie is _North By Northwest._ That's a good one! Must be a mystery marathon.” Dean glanced over at me. “You in?”

“Why not?”

Twenty minutes into the movie, I heard a soft snore next to me. Glancing over, I saw that Dean's chin was sunk into his chest, empty bottle tilting from his lax fingers. The feeling of unreality that had been popping up in my brain all night returned full force as I looked at him. I was, unbelievably, sharing a bed with Dean Winchester. What the ever-lovin' fuck was going on?

Even if it seemed like the setup for one of my stories, I had no illusions this adventure would end so thrillingly. Far from being disappointed that there was no hint of attraction from either of the brothers, I was amazed (and more than a little honored) that they seemed to accept me as a friend on such short acquaintance. I seriously couldn't have asked for anything more.

And finally, I could look at Dean as much as I wanted without fear of getting caught. He had a zit, and a random nose hair, and a little bit of drool, and he was just so beautifully vulnerable and human that it brought a lump to my throat. Watching them onscreen, they had a kind of invincibility that was missing here. Here, they were just like me, just as mortal, and it threw their courage into stark relief. They were so fucking fragile compared to the things they fought! I wanted to help them, comfort them, save them, but I didn't know how.

At that exact moment, the chirp of a quiet fart from Sam's direction startled a fond laugh out of me even as tears welled up in my eyes.

_I should go._

It was weird to be sitting here while they slept. It didn't matter that this was the safest I'd felt the whole night, or that the thought of spending the next few hours alone in my alternate universe room made everything inside me clench with anxiety. Sam and Dean were already doing so much for me, the least I could do was try not to be a nuisance.

With a sigh, I reluctantly put my feet on the floor, reaching for the remote. Before I could turn off the tv, Dean startled awake, eyes wary until they landed on me. He relaxed then, and rubbed one hand sleepily over his face, wiping away the drool.

“Sorry, must have dozed off.”

“Don't worry about it. I should probably head out anyway, let you get some rest.” I did my best to hide exactly how I felt about that, but Dean's perceptive gaze never left my face and I had to look away from the kindness there.

“You don't have to go. Had myself a little cat nap and now I'm gonna watch the rest of this movie, if you want to stay.” He sat up a little straighter, waving at me to settle back against the headboard.

My self-discipline wasn't strong enough to resist the invitation, so I sat back, trying not to look too pathetically grateful.

“Thanks. For everything.” I was surprised by the sting of sudden tears that accompanied a rush of thankfulness for the simple presence of the brothers in the room with me. Blinking the tears away before they could overflow, I took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on the emotional roller coaster that was my current existence.

“We're glad to help Em.” He sent me a sideways grin and I ignored the way my stomach flipped. “Besides, it makes a nice change from the kind of job where something's trying to kill us.”

“I bet,” I chuckled, turning back to the tv and away from the eyes that threatened to turn me into a gibbering idiot.

I vaguely recall a scene or two of the movie, but the next thing I really remember is blinking awake in the darkened room. I stared up at the ceiling, half-expecting panic and anxiety to overwhelm me. Instead, I felt surprisingly relaxed as I gradually became more aware of my surroundings.

I was comfortably warm, tucked under the half of the coverlet from Dean's side of the bed. He must have covered me with it before he laid down, because there he was on top of the sheet, fully dressed and dead to the world. He was on his stomach, arms akimbo under his pillow, face turned away and snoring softly. My heart skipped a beat when I realized that his elbow was pressed to my upper arm.

 _Don't be fucking ridiculous! It's his_ elbow _, for pete's sake._

Talking sense into myself failed miserably, so I let my inner fangirl run wild, cartwheels of exhilerated disbelief and melting-warm affection. I giddily considered the possibility of getting an anti-possession tattoo on the spot where his skin touched mine, just to commemorate the moment. It would probably never happen again, even if I ended up staying in this universe, so I might as well do my best to remember it.

Light from the parking lot filtered around the edges of the curtains and I studied the shape of him in the dimness, noticing as many details as possible, committing them to memory. Then I turned my attention to the room around me, the sounds outside, even the smells, doing everything I could to burn the moment into my brain. I needed to make this into a memory that would be my touchstone, something I could call up to remind myself that this had been _real_ , something that wouldn't dwindle into the irrelevance of a hallucination or a dream in the face of my ordinary life back home _._

Because I was suddenly sure that I would be going home, and sooner rather than later. I was weirdly certain that it depended on my telling the brothers something about their future, but the possibilities had been too overwhelmingly infinite for me to think clearly. As I thought about it now though, the answer of what to tell them was so clear, so obvious, that I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it immediately upon hearing the date.

With that piece of the puzzle falling into place, all the anxiety and fear I'd been suppressing finally began to fade. I went back to sleep, savoring the warmth of Dean's arm against mine.

 

*********

 

The sound of a key in the lock woke me and I blinked in the brilliant morning light that accompanied Sam through the door. Reluctantly, I pushed the blanket away to sit on the edge of the bed and begin the usual morning routine of forcing my brain cells into motion, ignoring their forlorn plea of _just five more minutes._

“Good morning.”

The soft greeting sounded behind me and I raised my head to see Sam approaching with two large take-out cups that smelled blessedly of coffee.

Distracted, I was a little slow with my response. “Morning, Sam,” I answered hoarsely after a few seconds.

By then, he was settling next to me, smiling broadly in amusement. “Seems like you could use this, huh?” He raised the cups slightly. “Not a morning person?”

“Understatement.”

“Didn't know what you'd like, so I got a mocha and a latte. I can take whatever you don't want.”

“Mmm, mocha please.” He handed me the cup and I took a large sip, wincing a little at the temperature, then heaved a deep sigh of contentment. “Damn, that's good! Sam, you are a prince among men.”

“Glad I could help. You seem more lively already.” Another little smile. He seemed to do that a lot more in real life, and I was glad to see it.

“Well on my way to full consciousness, in fact. Now all I need is a shower and I'll start to feel human again.”

An emotion I didn't recognize flickered in his eyes, there and gone so quickly that I thought I must have imagined it when he spoke again.

“There's time for that before we head out to breakfast, if you want to go back to your room. I'm gonna give Dean another 15 minutes, then I'll kick his ass outta bed. Leave in about 45 or so?”

“Sounds good.” I headed for the door, checking the pocket of my borrowed sweatpants to make sure my room key was still there. “Thanks again for the coffee!” I saluted him with the cup as the door closed between us.

I was shampooing my hair five minutes later when it occurred to me what Sam might have been thinking just before I left. I had said I was going to feel human again and I could swear that what I saw in his eyes was envy. Was it possible that Sam didn't feel human? Considering what I knew about him and his life, it seemed entirely too possible. How terrible and lonely that would be! I wanted to tell him he didn't have to feel that way, that he was as much a part of the human family as the rest of us. But how do you say that to someone who has known you for less than a day?

 _Maybe I could write it down, leave a note he can read after I'm safely back in my own dimension._ The introvert in me jumped at the idea and I finished my shower on autopilot, musing on what I really wanted Sam to know before I left. By the time I was braiding my wet hair and applying the scant cosmetics I had in my purse, I had moved on to thinking about writing a similar note to Dean. Neither one of them seemed to understand their own worth! I had no illusions that my little gesture would make any real difference in that, but it didn't matter. I wanted to say it and they deserved to hear it.

Stepping back from the mirror, I examined my reflection critically and shrugged.

“Ah well. It is what it is.”

Back in the bedroom, I sat at the small desk, absentmindedly chewing on a wad of mint flavored dental floss while I wrote out my thoughts with the blotchy blue ink pen and small sheets of paper that generally come with motel room desks. There was no time to compose, to clarify, to make perfect. I could only spill my thoughts directly onto the paper and hope they formed some kind of meaningful message when I was done.

A knock at the door told me my time was up.

“Just a second!” I hollared, scribbling out the final few words before folding the sheets and shoving them into my pocket as I grabbed my bag, only remembering at the last second to pull the floss from my mouth and toss it into the trash bin next to the door.

“Hey there!” Sam smiled. “Ready for breakfast?”

“So ready. I'm starved!”

“Me, too.” Walking to the car, Dean jingled his keys a little. “I wanted to go back to the diner, but Sam is insisting we go to some hippie-dippie new age disaster.”

“Stop whining, Dean, you know it's my turn to pick.” Sam glanced at me, explaining a little apologetically. “The clerk at the store said this new organic cafe is delicious. I didn't think I'd get to try it before we left town.”

“No worries, Sam. I'll go anywhere.”

“Even if it's all yogurt and granola?” From Dean's tone, he might have been talking about gravel and rat poison.

I couldn't help smiling fondly at his stubbornness “Yes, even if it's all yogurt and granola.”

“See, I told you she wouldn't mind!” The triumphant tone was for Dean and the grateful smile was for me.

I returned it, savoring these moments with them. Now that I felt certain I would be able to get home, and I no longer had to hold the terror at bay, the sheer wonder of the entire experience was lighting me up inside.

They both climbed into the car like it was nothing, which I suppose for them it was. I followed suit, although I approached Baby somewhat more reverently, creaking open the back door and sliding in, savoring this moment too.

Dean's mood picked up considerably when we discovered that the cafe served full diner breakfasts. The three of us shared a leisurely meal, full of random conversation and bursts of laughter. I don't know if they were just giving me some space or if they could sense that I wasn't ready to talk about my situation yet, but it was a lighthearted meal. I even managed the monumental accomplishment of getting Sam to cheat on his egg white omelette to eat a bite of my corned beef hash.

Waiting at the register while Sam paid the check, I knew I couldn't put it off anymore. I needed to do what I had apparently come here to do. I took a deep breath as we crossed the parking lot, but before I could start, Dean clapped his hands sharply.

“Alright! I'm fueled up and ready to figure this thing out. Worst case scenario, we take you back to the bunker and see what we can dig up about interdimensional travel.”

Oh, the _bunker!_ How much would I love to go to the bunker! The temptation was overwhelming to play dumb for another day or two, but almost immediately a sense of urgency began to rise in the back of my mind. No matter how much I wanted to stretch things out, I couldn't deny my growing conviction that now was the time.

“I _so_ wish I could go to the bunker with you, but the truth is that I figured it out last night. I know what I need to do to get home.”

“Really?” Sam asked, surprise and curiousity all over his face. “What is it?”

“I can't really explain it, but I believe that I'm here to tell you something about your future. Once I do, I'll go back.”

Dean's eyebrows shot up. “Yeah? Thought it was safer not to risk changing things?”

“Maybe some things are worth the risk. I'll have to leave that up to you two. All I can do is tell you what I think you should know. What you do with it is something you'll have to decide for yourselves.”

“Well, don't hold back, Em, give us what ya got! Is it lotto numbers?”

“No,” I chuckled at Dean. “How would I even remember something like that?”

“Hey, a guy can hope, can't he?”

“C'mon, Dean, let her talk!” Sam turned to me. “What is it you want to tell us?”

Shaking my head, I asked, “Can we hold off on that for just a minute?” At their somewhat confused agreement, I went on. “It's just that I'll probably get whisked out of here as fast as I came and I want to say something to you two before I tell you anything specific about your future.”

“Sure thing, Em, we're in no hurry.”

Taking a firm hold on my courage, I looked from one to the other. “This may sound ridiculous, and I hope not too weird, but in a way, I think of you two as family. I get that you don't know me and you never will, but the truth is that I love you both and I hope you find the happiness you deserve.”

With nothing but a sweet, gentle smile, Sam opened his arms. Blinking back tears for the fiftieth time in the last twelve hours, I gratefully accepted the much-needed hug. I held on tight for as many seconds as I dared before stepping back and smiling up at him.

“Thank you for everything.” Throat tight, struggling to contain my emotions, I turned to Dean, saying, “Thank you both. You've been so kind and generous, I don't know what I would ha-”

Dean saw my difficulty and rescued me with an interruption. “You're welcome, Em. Didn't do much, but I'm glad we could help.” He stepped forward for his own hug and I moved into his arms, trying unsuccessfully not to blush. This time, there was no cutting it short, I just stood there, hands bunched in the back of his jacket, until he moved back. Turns out I didn't really need to memorize the moment from last night. This, right here, this was my touchstone.

“Okay then.” I cleared my throat. “I'm going to try to keep this as minimal as possible, just what you need to know and nothing more. Kevin is working on the Demon Tablet, right?”

They exchanged a silent glance before Sam answered. “Yeah... why do you ask?”

“Has he found anything about the Trials yet?”

“Trials? Doesn't sound familiar. He say anything about that to you, Sam?”

“Never heard of them. You mean like court trials?”

“No, these are Trials with a capital T. Kevin's translation will miss one important piece of information.” I paused, bracing myself to be whisked back home the second I uttered the words that would change the future. “Whoever starts the Trials will _die_. It's the price of the spell.”

Nothing happened.

“Spell? What spell?” Dean's question distracted me from my confusion, at least a little. Still expecting a rush of dizziness to swallow me up, I answered.

“Kevin will tell you everything else you need to know, I promise. Just remember what I told you when the time comes, okay?”

“We will.”

There followed an awkward couple of moments where we all waited for something more to happen. When it didn't, Dean shrugged, shaking his head.

“Maybe we should just head back to the motel? You can tell us why you thought that would work,” he teased with just the hint of a wink.

A little panicked at the thought of being there when they found the notes I'd dropped onto the front seat for them, I searched wildly for something else to say.

“Wait! Maybe that just wasn't the right thing,” I pointed at Sam, “but _remember_ it anyway.”

“I promise I won't forget.”

“Was there somethin' else you thought we should know?”

“Let me think... oh! Of course. Have you already met up with Abaddon?”

“Met her, neutralized her, and left the pieces scattered across three states.”

“Good.” Giving them a stern look, I admonished, “Now listen to me very carefully. Under no circumstances are you ever to dig her up and sew her back together.”

“Why the fuck would we do that?”

“I honest-to-god _don't know._ Just don't do it. In fact, here's what I would do, if I were you. She's stuck in that brain as long as the bullet's in there, right? So you crack the skull, put the brain in a jar of formaldahyde so it never rots, and bury it in concrete in the deepest hole you can find. Then you burn everything else. Seems like that should hold her for a good long time.”

“Long enough for her to be someone else's problem. I like it!”

As Dean spoke, a wave of unsteadiness began to overtake me, less suddenly than last time, but too familiar to mistake.

“It's happening!” Their faces were quickly growing dim and suddenly I could hardly keep my balance. “Take care of yourselves! And each other!”

The last syllable bounced back at me from the walls of my living room. Clutching at the arm of the familiar couch, I managed not to fall, staring around me as if I'd been gone for weeks, not hours.

“Days, actually.”

I whirled around with a small scream. There, standing in the doorway to my kitchen, was a beautiful dark haired woman that I recognized instantly, though I knew with certainty that this was not the actress who had played Kali on the show. This woman was somehow larger than life, with a palpable aura of power and danger about her.

It was _Kali_. The real one. Apparently, my recent experiences had helped prepare me for the unbelievable, because I didn't even try to deny it. She had to be here for a reason (I shuddered internally at the possibilities), but this was my home, so I gathered my courage and spoke. Respectfully.

“I'm sorry, what?”

“You've been gone for days. It's your Friday evening, of the week you left.”

My eyes widened, wondering if I would have a job on Monday morning. It was clear she could read minds, because she waved a careless hand.

“Don't worry, I took care of it. No one even knew you were gone.”

“But how?”

Her face grew haughty and impatient. “I am a goddess. What do you imagine is beyond me?”

“Of course, I'm sorry. But please, can you tell me what was this all about? Why send me to another dimension?”

“It is also _my_ dimension, my world, and I am sick and tired of angels and their ilk threatening to destroy it!” The raven depths of her gaze ignited with flame. “By what right do they do so?! They're like children throwing tantrums, with no true concept of the order of things. When the time comes for this world to end, it will be Me that destroys it, no other. I sent you there to warn the Winchesters away from resurrecting Abaddon, thus avoiding at least one potential apocalypse.”

“You couldn't do that yourself?” I blurted the question, regretting it the moment it was out.

Kali's eyes narrowed dangerously. “I sent you there, did I not? You were simply a tool I used for the sake of discretion. Meddling with a fated timeline is frowned upon by the more hidebound among the gods. Direct action would have meant listening to their endlessly tedious complaints and I have much better things to do.”

“I'm glad I was able to do what you wanted.”

“Yes, well, you did manage to pass along a bit more information than I had planned, but I don't see the harm. Your service is appreciated.” She turned away with an air of dismissal.

I honestly don't know what got into me the next moment. Maybe it was the sheer emotional exhaustion of the last twelve hours, because I am not what you would call a risk taker. But I _had_ to ask; there would never be another chance.

“Um, Kali?”

Glancing impatiently over her shoulder, she snapped, “What?”

“Is there any way you could let me know how the Winchesters do in the new timeline? Or even, I don't know, let me visit them sometime?”

Irritation blended with amusement and even a hint of grudging respect in her face. “I admire your boldness, mortal. And you did accomplish the goal. I will consider sending you an update on their situation.”

“And the visit?”

“Don't push your luck.”

She turned to go.

“One more thing...”

“What did I _just_ say?!”

“I know, but... do you think you could do something about Trump?”

Kali stared at me, evaluating. I knew it was a long shot, but I also had the sense that she wasn't one to suffer vicious fools gladly.

“I'll see what I can do.”

 

*********

 

“Take care of yourselves. And each oth-”

Em faded out mid-word and the brothers exchanged a glance before turning toward the car.

“So do you think she was right about how to deal with Abaddon's body?” Sam mused.

“Better safe than sorry. I guess we can start that little project once we're done in Nebraska.” Dean sighed as he opened Baby's door, stopping short when he saw the slip of paper on his seat, folded in half with his name on the outside.

“Huh.” Sam was sliding into the passenger seat, holding a note of his own.

Dean followed his lead and there was a minute or two of quiet as they both read the scribbled words.

When Dean finished reading, he glanced up and grinned a little to see Sam staring out at the horizon, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Dude, I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

 

 

THE END

 

 

 

-What, you wanted to know what the notes said? Oh, alright, here you go!-

 

DEAN'S NOTE

Dean, you have to stop taking responsibility for the lives of everyone around you. The burden is too fucking heavy for one person. You don't have to save everyone in order to be worth something, you know. The things that make you wonderful are your generous heart, your loyalty, your intelligence and humor. That would all still be true if you gave up hunting tomorrow. So do the job, but don't do it because you feel like you have to earn your right to exist. Do it because it's the work you've chosen and you're fucking awesome at it.

 

SAM'S NOTE

I know that you feel like the demon blood is an evil inside of you that needs to be cleansed. I get that, but I want you to consider something - it was your lifelong resistance of that evil that shaped you, that made you into the amazing person you are today. You have such kindness and empathy precisely because you know so well what it is to feel damaged and alone and out of place. And after so much time, isn't the demon blood just one small part of a good man? Because you are a good man, you know. You don't need to be cleansed of the blood, Sam, it's being cleansed through you.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is awesome, so tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what bothered or confused you, anything, I'd love to hear it all.


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